


Son of Shame

by ragingrainbow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Crying, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Gags, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Professional Domina, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingrainbow/pseuds/ragingrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>To him, she was just Mistress.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of Shame

He bit into the gag as the leather bit into his back, his hands struggling against their bonds as he fought the tears. His body was protesting wildly, every part of him aching from prolonged confinement to his position on his knees. There was a mat beneath him, of course, and she had shifted him a few times to avoid the risk of permanent injury, but it had been a long session, perhaps the longest they had ever had. He was sure they must be running over time by now, but she had made no mention of it – knowing from experience that as long as she gave him what he needed he would have no problem paying for extra time. 

He cried out around the rubber in his mouth as she put more force behind the next few lashes, steadily beating away at his resistance, willing him to give in to the release of the tears that would wash away all the pain he felt. He whimpered, his head bowed, strands of his messy hair clinging to his sweat covered forehead. 

She kept pushing, and eventually succeeded, his body shaking as sobs wracked it. He gasped around the gag, struggling for breath, the tears overwhelming him as they rushed down his cheeks, dropping off his chin . It was painful, but it was what he needed, for just a few moments his tears washed away his pretence and he allowed himself to be fragile, to be vulnerable.

He distantly heard the clicking of her heels as she moved, having abandoned her whip now, knowing that once the tears came his needs changed drastically. She removed his gag before she carefully pulled him to his feet, leaving his hands tied for the moment. The leather of her catsuit was rough against the angered skin on his back as she held him in a somewhat awkward embrace. This was the most intimate they ever got, anything more would not be suitable for two people that barely knew each other and shared nothing but his shame. 

To him, she was just Mistress. There had been a name on her website, but he doubted it was her real one and it wasn’t a name she ever asked him to call her. He had never told her his name, and she had never asked – maybe she knew, maybe she recognized him, but she had never made it known if she did. And he left her enough of a tip after each time that he was convinced she would feel no need to sell the story. 

“Thank you, Mistress.” He murmured as his tears subsided, his body trembling with exhaustion and the slight chill he felt now. She let go of him, before she moved to release his bonds, standing close enough for him to steady himself against her body as his arms were freed. 

He winced as he moved his arms, his shoulders protesting. Her soft hands rubbed them briefly, not tenderly, just the action of a businesswoman who wanted to ensure the comfort and safety of her client. She offered him a blanket and told him to take a seat on the sofa , her heels clicking against the wooden floor as she left the room. 

He sat on the sofa, the blanket wrapped tightly around his body to keep him somewhat warm. He knew he could go get dressed if he wanted to, but his clothes were in the other room and besides, he didn’t feel quite ready to just yet. To him, getting dressed was resuming normal life again, and for now he was rather content to just sit there, keeping his worries and fears at a distance. 

He heard her confident step in the hallway and automatically rearranged himself. Even though their session was more or less at an end, he always felt an overwhelming need to keep himself in check around her, to sit with his back straight and make sure any fabric that might be covering his body looked neat. He ran his hand through his damp hair just as she came back into the room. 

“Here.” She offered him a glass of juice and he accepted it thankfully, suddenly realizing how thirsty he was. He willed himself not to gulp though, since her gaze was resting on him now. 

“Do you want to use the shower?” She asked as he finished the juice and carefully set the empty glass down on the table beside the sofa. 

“No thank you.” He replied, as he always did. He saw no use in staying longer than needed, he normally came home to relative privacy and if anyone should be around to notice his sweaty, tired body they would just assume he had gone for a jog or to the gym.

He looked up at her briefly, meeting her steady gaze. He never really allowed himself to look at her much – during play it was forbidden unless she asked him to, and really he didn’t care much what she looked like. 

He had to admit that she was pretty though. Her eyes were kind, her face was soft and her full lips seemed to permanently carry a soft smile. Her long red hair hung in soft curls around her face, hinting at a fiery personality possibly hiding beneath her calm exterior. She was petite, small enough in fact that he could easily overpower her at any time – but this was exactly why he had picked her. Somehow that fact made it seem all the more voluntary, helped to remind him that he was there by his own choice, and reinforced the shame he needed to feel when he was with her. The shame he always carried but didn’t allow to surface anywhere else. 

“I should go.” He finally said, standing up and making his way towards the door to the room she used as a changing room for her clients. She nodded curtly, picking up the glass to bring it to the kitchen while he went to get dressed. 

When he came back into the other room she was already tidying up the toys. She had taken her boots off, walking barefoot although her body was still molded into the catsuit. The first few times he had come to her she had kept up her act until he left, but gradually she had realized that it wasn’t something he needed, and once their session ended she let herself relax. He had to admit he preferred it this way, it somehow helped him to gradually come back to the real world again – and felt better than the early times when he had almost felt like he was kicked right back out into the harsh streets as soon as he had paid her. 

“How much?” He asked, and saw her tense a little, a sure sign that she had let her guard down enough to not even notice him standing there.

“You booked an hour.” She replied, without looking up from what she was doing. 

“That was more than an hour.” He protested, as he always did. 

She turned around and offered him a playful smile but made no other response. They both knew it was a useless point to argue, because he always paid her more than her fee and she had long since realized that it was pointless to try to stop him. It was his comfort, like a safety net, it enabled him to trust her and that she would keep his privacy intact. 

He counted out the money and handed it to her. She put it away without bothering to check it, following him into the hallway to see him out the door. They didn’t say goodbye, they didn’t make any arrangements to see each other again. They both knew that he would be back.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting unfinished for a while. Realised that maybe it actually _is_ finished. Some characters don't want us to know everything, I guess.


End file.
